Call for Music Writers... Rock, Indie, Urban, Electronic, Americana, Metal, World and More

 
Bookmark and Share
Text:AAA
Sunday, Jul 27, 2008

While it’s not novel to say so, politics remains a truly unique animal. While typically set up to give all sides a voice in how the population is structured and led, its antiquated ideal no longer legitimately serving the “one man, one vote” fantasy. Instead, running for office has become a quasi-fame whore obstacle course, the best candidate often losing to the one capable of avoiding the pitfalls predicated by numerous conflicting obligations and needs. In the end, what we get is a kind of communal compromise, a contract if you will between the voter and the sharp-dressed defenders. It’s this kind of wheeling and concealing that’s at the core of the excellent made for TV movie The Deal. The locale may be different, but the political games definitely remain the same.


With their party’s defeat in 1992, British Labour leader Neil Kinnock resigns in disgrace. Replaced by longtime political animal John Smith, the opposition is desperate to end more than a decade of Margaret Thatcher’s conservative reign. Looking to the new blood within the organization, the names of Gordon Brown and Tony Blair emerge. The former is a longstanding member, a staunchly Scottish firebrand in his legislative motives. The latter is more of a personality, easy on camera and clearly in tune with the pre-millennial climate in the country. Naturally, the matter of succession is addressed, with Brown believing he has a ‘deal’ with Blair about who will next represent Labour. But when an unexpected tragedy occurs, both men will be tested, and their agreement seen cast away by the media, and many within their own union.


When you think about it, The Deal is really nothing more than a serious of closed door confronts all leading up to the inevitable election of Tony Blair as Britain’s Prime Minister. The scope is further limited in that writer Peter Morgan and director Stephen Frears (also responsible for The Queen) have chosen to focus solely on the infighting between then Labour Party cohorts Blair and Brown. Viewed as diametrically opposed in personal approach, as well as political savvy, we’re supposed to choose sides and see who wins (even though the facts give that element away). So it’s the process, and the personalities involved, that drive The Deal‘s initial drama. But thanks to the performances of actors Michael Sheen and David Morrissey, we gain the kind of insights we couldn’t glean from a newspaper or a Parliamentary transcript.


Morgan acknowledges in the commentary that accompanies this new DVD version of the film (from The Weinstein Company and their high end Miriam Collection label) that while meticulous research was done on this backroom battle between two rising UK heavyweights, some creative license was used to realize his aims. Frankly, The Deal doesn’t suffer because of it. Like All the President’s Men, or the movie the screenwriter was last involved in, putting fictional words into the mouths of well known public figures is fine, as long as the intent is clear, and from the remaining bonus material on the disc, we discover how closely The Deal matched the truth. Of course, by keeping things small, situated between a few formidable individuals, such a strategy works well. And when you combine it with clever direction and amazing acting turns, the lack of documentary-like clarity is all forgiven.


This was Sheen’s first turn as Blair, and it’s clear that he learned more about the man before taking on Her Royal Highness in The Queen. While his up and coming Labour representative is seen as little more than a cunning chameleon (trading on his Scottish birth and London upbringing, embracing policies from both sides of the governing sphere), one sees the totality of the modern political animal in his smiling, scheming mannerism. In fact, for anyone wondering why Sheen’s Blair felt such compassion for Elizabeth II during the whole Princess Diana death debacle can see his situational acumen at work here. Certainly there are moments when we realize he is completely within his rights to do what he does. But there is no denying his “anything for a gain” gumption.


This is also true of Brown, though his old school bluster and dour personality made him a clear contradiction to lead the nation (though he is doing so now). He’s like a bulldog without a proper enemy to snipe at. His anger seems focused inward, every defeat Labour takes at the hands of Margaret Thatcher and the Conservatives acting like an internal body blow. Morrissey is very good at getting his glower on, especially in the middle sequences when it looks like his buddy Blair will indeed usurp him as the ‘darling’ of the party. Yet by the end, Brown has taken that determination to levels which outline why he would have to wait over a decade to gain the control he believed was his. By this point, he’s so scorned he’s practically inert.


When they are together onscreen, The Deal sizzles with a kind of critical chemistry. Both actors essay incredibly difficult material, since the public persona of both men was and remains well known to the intended audience (especially in the UK, where this TV movie first aired). In addition, you can literally feel the personal respect, professional reliance, and palpable reticence between the officials. While we don’t learn much about the British political system, we do understand what lures men into its service. Unlike the United States, which sees its representative form of government constantly cave into the needs of big business and corporate lobbyists, England seems to value the support of the constituency much more (even if playing to the people is merely logistical lip service).


With Morgan planning a final installment in his ‘Blair’ trilogy (focusing on the leader’s latter years interacting with Presidents Clinton and Bush), The Deal functions as more than just a companion piece to the Oscar winning Queen. Indeed, like something almost Shakespearean, it sets up a man who will see the very facets that aided in his ascension undo him in the end. What’s also clear is that no matter the public façade put on by the candidates, there’s always an equal amount of private jerryrigging going on as well. Elections are not won solely on the balloting of an interested public. What The Deal makes clear is that, in this arena, there are many more arrangements brokered than even the candidates can see.


Bookmark and Share
Text:AAA
Saturday, Jul 26, 2008

It’s incredible when you think of it, but Jet Li’s first Hollywood film (as a villain in Lethal Weapon IV) was a mere 10 years ago. That’s right, back in 1998, few outside the Hong Kong action film fanbase knew the amazing talents of this life long kung fu expert. Certainly his work in the Once Upon a Time in China films made a major impact, but it took DVD and the digital format to really serve those epics the way they deserved. Indeed, Li’s rise from cult to commodity, geek glory to A-list action man, is nothing short of amazing.


And with said ascent we Westerners are finally being treated to the many unknown movies in his resume. Thanks to Genius Products, The Weinstein Company, and their definitive Dragon Dynasty label, his 1993 tour de force Tai Chi Master is now available. Featuring several major players in the genre both in front of and behind the camera, we get a clear example of why Li is the superstar he is today.


As young boys among the Shaolin, Jun Bao and Tien Bo were almost inseparable - that is, when they weren’t trying to outdo each other in the martial arts arena. A mistake sees them banned from the temple, and set out into the world. Soon, Tien Bo has fallen under the corrupting influence of the local eunuch governor, while Jun Bao works with a Robin Hood like insurrection taking back the excessive taxes and shakedown protection monies manipulated out of the population. In a grab for power, Tien Bo promises to stop the rebellion.


He tricks his friends into an attempted assassination. Only Jun Bao and broken woman Sui Lin make it out alive. Vowing to end the reign of terror instigated by his childhood friend, our hero takes up the sacred teachings of Chi, and learns the invaluable fighting lessons of its skill set. Naturally, a showdown between Jun Bao and Tien Bo will prove who is indeed the master, and whose been a servant to secular whims for far too long.


Tai Chi Master is one of the greatest martial arts movies of all time. This is no exaggeration. When you combine the stellar talents of a prime Li (30 years old and ready to rock), an amazing Michelle Yeoh, a ballsy turn by Chin Siu Ho, and nonstop action amazement from a directing God Yuen Wo Ping, this is the kind of kung fu spectacle that turns the novice into a fan and the knowledgeable into something akin to rabid. The basic plot serves as a model cinematic clothesline, perfect for the filmmaker to hang his patented wire fighting stunt scenes on. Even better, each one builds in skill level and execution, leading to a series of third act showdowns which close the story in absolutely epic fashion.


Unlike other examples of the genre, which focus almost exclusively on honor and duty, tradition and the trappings of society, Tai Chi Master is more concerned about the philosophical underpinnings of the title art form. Here, Jun Bao and Tien Bo are exiled for violating the monastery’s strict codes. But before they leave, their master explains how this is a blessing in disguise. Without understanding how their skill set plays within the parameters of the real world - and in turn, how the pair will respond when temptation and teachings clash - they will never truly gain wisdom. All throughout the first third of the narrative, our neophytes are tested over and over.


Part of the joy in this majestic battle royale is in how the characters react. Chin Siu Ho has the hardest role to fulfill, since we have to watch him turn from ambitious to evil in a very short period of time. Of course, the script gives him some truly horrendous crimes to commit, yet we have to buy the personal motivation and find empathy. Ho helps us do so. Similarly, Ms. Yeoh is hardly a weak willed woman, especially within these settings. But Tai Chi Master throws her for a loop early on, when an ex-husband shows up with his new horrible harpy wife. After another classic confront, Siu Lin drowns her sorrows in massive vats of wine. It’s spellbinding to see the actress in anything other than superhero mode.


The biggest surprise, however, is Jet Li’s effervescent, almost tragicomic performance as Jun Bao. There is lots of clowning and confused physical shtick in his humor-laced routine, but the overall façade he presents is one of dismay, betrayal, and anger. He even gets to play inebriated and insane (while recuperating from an attack). While he maintains the same stature and grace throughout, his is a troubled man, tormented by a true lack of understanding. Once he gets into the montage-style Tai Chi material, complete with voiceover lessons and artful fighting illustrations, we sense the champion coming to the fore. His last battle with Tien Bo seals the deal…and the movie.


Lacking some of the insight we’ve come to expect from the DVD series, the bonus features presented are more praise-oriented than production dense. Brett Ratner and Elvis Mitchell are on hand to give Jet li, Michelle Yeoh and Yuen Wo Ping their due, while another featurette focuses on the location for the shoot. The only star we hear from is Tien Bo - Chin Siu Ho. Looking surprisingly young, he discusses his own martial arts past and what it was like working with the various icons present. Wrapping everything up is another excellent commentary from Bey Logan. Desperate to fill in the blanks located at places like Wikipedia and IMDb, he delivers a detailed, dense, discussion of both the players and the pitfalls in making this kind of action ‘opera’. It’s an intriguing listen. 


With its lightening swordplay, flawless fisticuffs, slapstick style physical stunts, and well-choreographed genius, Tai Chi Master instantly takes its place among the many noted genre classics. It contains timeless performances from all involved while staying true to the recognizable approaches that keep fans flocking to this area of entertainment. Even better, this is the perfect introductory film for anyone wondering why, in today’s clime of CGI inspired bravado and outsized visuals, the basic body movements associated with the martial arts remain compelling. It’s much more than the violence. It’s the names responsible for the mayhem that are equally important. And Tai Chi Master has an amazing collection of talent behind it.


Bookmark and Share
Text:AAA
Friday, Jul 25, 2008

Some films commit the cardinal cinematic sin of being too smart for their own good. They smugly announce their importance, challenging you to hate them if only to expose your own lack of understanding. The recent remake of Funny Games is a good example of this ideal. If you loved it, you got what writer/director Michael Haneke was selling. If you didn’t, you stand as a poseur, pretending to love film without seeing the Paloving way in which you salivate over big screen violence. Right. There is a little of this out of touch arrogance running through Neil Marshall’s ‘80s movie mash-up Doomsday. In the mind of the man responsible for Dog Soldiers and The Descent, if you’re not hip to his homage heavy update of the ‘80s post-apocalyptic thriller, then you just haven’t spent enough dateless nights in front of a VCR.


When the Reaper virus wipes out most of Scotland, the British government quarantines the North Country. Within months, the remaining population dies off, the disease’s communicable state requiring a massive wall and martial law. Thirty years late, the plague returns to the heart of London. Desperate to halt another pandemic, officials turn to Cabinet Minister Canaris and Chief of Police Nelson. One holds the key to a cure. The other has an officer who can infiltrate the hot zone and find the whereabouts of Dr. Kane, the only man who may have the answers. Of course, the region is now its own warzone, apparently immune survivors traveling in packs, creating their own craven rules along the way. But if anyone can accomplish the mission, it’s Eden Sinclair and her ragtag group of well-armed mercenaries.


As part of the Unrated DVD release from Universal, Doomsday‘s director sits down with several cast members to discuss the making of the movie, and from the 28 Days Later inspired opening to the Escape from New York styled set-up, the group make it clear that this film was as much a cinematic statement of terror trivia as an actual attempt to make some serious science fiction. The name dropping is rampant, with Mad Max (in all three of his incarnations), Aliens, and even the legend of King Arthur getting a referential shout-out. In fact, if one reads between the lines, they can garner a fairly accurate review from the ravings. Apparently, even the individuals behind the film recognize how redundant Doomsday is, going so far as to point out the far better examples it rips off in order to achieve its throwback tedium.


Part of the problem here is scope. Even when he destroyed the UK with nubile, naked space vampires, Tobe Hooper made sure to remind everyone that his Lifeforce Armageddon had bigger picture implications. But Marshall, who works better in enclosed scenarios (see: the cave carnivores of his all gal Descent), can’t take his vision global. Heck, he barely delivers Glasgow. There are sequences where Sinclair and her group of military clad clichés come across a deserted cityscape covered in foliage and debris. Yet because of the way it is shot (at night, under a bright blue moon) and the angles Marshall chooses, its looks like the most mediocre of old school matt paintings. Even worse, when we wind up in what appears to be a future shock version of Medieval Times (the restaurant chain, not the era), the castle keep seems solid only when the director stays within its location walls.

Sloppy CGI and incomprehensible scripting are not the only issues plaguing Doomsday. Marshall makes it very clear in his digital conversation that one of the many elements he tried to bring to the material was a thwarting of expectations. And if he meant that his villains would be more pathetic than powerful, that his heroine would whine as much as a pre-weaned pup, that the army would be lousy at the two things they supposedly excel at (infiltration and the skilled use of armaments), or that his government officials would be obvious and outrageous in their corruption and subterfuge, then he’d be right. Indeed, all of these failures fill out Doomsday‘s many minutes, and no amount of added violence or bloodshed (hence the cover art come-on “Unrated”) can fix them. When tossed in with what is, in essence, an adventure without a real sense of purpose - no President to save, no gas supply to protect - any inherent thrills simply disappear.


This doesn’t mean that Doomsday is a visual disaster - at least not all the time. The rest of the DVD is fleshed out with features that argue for the meticulous detail in the production design (check out the tattoos) and the budget busting goals Marshall attempted. A lot of work went into this movie, and like the old adage proudly proclaims, all of it is up on the screen. Yet it doesn’t explain why all this pomp leads to so little entertainment circumstance. Sure, if you enjoy the basic b-movie, easily amused by the sometimes absurdist premises and solid schlock execution, you might get some kicks here. But Doomsday still begs the question - why borrow from something better, especially when you have no desire (or ability) to improve on it.


Of course, filmmakers like Brian DePalma and John Carpenter would argue with such an assessment, especially since they’ve borrowed liberally from past and present masters (Hitchcock, Argento) and yet managed to make the material their own. Neil Marshall can’t make the same claim with Doomsday, no matter how many cult classics he throws into the scattered storyline. Sometimes, a bad idea is just that, no matter what inspired you to come up with it. Arguing for its mediocrity by citing better original sources seems…arrogant. Then again, that’s how the ‘smarter than you’ style of cinema defends itself. Somewhere, someone is laughing at this criticism’s inability to sync up with what this dystopian dirge has to offer. One peek behind this genre emperor’s dressing room door doesn’t reveal a lack of clothes, just someone who worships the designer yet has no idea how to wear them.


Bookmark and Share
Text:AAA
Sunday, Jul 13, 2008

In the ‘80s, when the slasher film was all the rage, there was no real need to be different. The set-up and fright formula mandated a kind of carbon copy creativity. Just find yourself a haunted setting, a group of teenage rowdies, some random sex and drug/alcohol abuse, a moralizing murderer, and a last act denouement that provided a basis for the bloodletting, and you had a coattail cash box. Of course, as the genre grew, so did the number of mimics. Before long, the desire to be derivative killed the category. Now, nearly 30 years later, we’re seeing a kind of slice and dice revival. Too bad then that the lessons learned way back when are no longer part of film language rote. Instead, movies like Steel Trap appear destined to repeat this kind of horror movie’s many mistakes. 


It’s New Years Eve, and seven partygoers in an abandoned skyscraper get a call to join another shindig. This one is very exclusive, and promises lots of thrills. So rock star Wade, celebrity chef Kathy, advice columnist Nicole, her entertainment attorney boyfriend Robert, TV exec Pamela, former child star Adam, and his coke whore arm candy Melanie all find themselves involved in a nursery rhyme filled game of life or death. You see, a masked killer is stalking each and every one of them, unflattering nicknames indicating the slayer’s possible motives. One by one, the guests are murdered, the cat and mouse means of destruction providing a high level of anxiety for those still on the “list”. Unless they find out who is behind the crimes, and why they want them dead, they will never escape this Steel Trap.


Steel Trap is the kind of film that substitutes creepy locations for plotting, and the slightest smatterings of gore in place of anything suspenseful or scary. To call it derivative would avoid its obvious attempts at being different, and yet this is nothing more than the standard slice and dice from 20 years ago, dressed up in a decidedly uninteresting set of the emperor’s new clothes. Give the killer a hockey mask instead of a bland black disguise, and lower the average age of the victims by at least one generation, and you’d have something akin to Friday the 13th: Jason Goes High Rise. While the DVD cover art (the film is currently available from Dimension Extreme, the Weinstein Company and Genius Products subdivision) suggest something like Saw or The Cube, there is nothing remotely inventive or puzzle boxy about this title.


First time feature director Luis Cámara, who co-wrote the movie with Gabrielle Galanter, would disagree with such an assessment. As part of the full length audio commentary offered in the digital presentation, he makes it clear that he finds his narrative rather inventive and particularly adept. He’s not foolish enough to believe he’s made some manner of classic, but there are indications that at least he sees beyond the simplistic elements being employed. The Making-of material provides minimal insights, mostly geared toward location issues and production problems. Indeed, it’s hard to hate on a film that tries so hard to be so unique and inventive. But Steel Trap tends to set itself up for such ridicule, even when it’s providing some minor moments of macabre.


Take the character of Nicole, for example. As played by Julia Ballard, this heartless witch is an unbearable presence, almost from the very first moment we meet her. Unfortunately, she grows even more grating as the storyline continues. It doesn’t help that our actress maintains a whiny, self pitying persona throughout. Ballard had never been in a movie before this, and it really shows. In fact, if you look at the female characters and discern who is annoying and who is mildly acceptable, some ‘killer’ clues can be gleaned from the otherwise repugnant red herrings.


Not that the men are any better. Thankfully, machismo man-ass Adam is killed right away. A little of his snow-snorting lothario goes a very long way. Sadly, rock God Wade is a minor deity at best, and Robert only exists to keep us from concentrating on those scream queening babes. Of course, a little well honed gore could cure a lot of what ails Steel Trap. Let the offal flow and we fright fans will forgive a great deal. The small amounts of claret offered, however, do little except aggravate. In fact, when juxtaposed against the cornball dialogue, this could be a bad b-movie from a time before terror grew a brazen backbone. Slack scares like this were a dime a dozen back when passion pits ruled the dread domain.


Cámara has to bear most of the blame. He is constantly using his camera like a scalpel, cutting into scenes with a quack butcher’s abandon instead of actually applying some nominal mise-en-scene. This is especially true of his murder sequences. Characters are caught by our villain and then…they’re forgotten about while we travel over to a couple of minutes of mindless exposition. Another glimpse of an upcoming death, and it’s back to more conversational stalling. We don’t feel any sense of urgency in what the director is trying to deliver. Instead, his plot plods along without a single significant reason to keep us glued to, or even going for, the edge of our seat.


It seems clear that, in an arena where the unoriginal and plagiaristic are typical examples of filmmaking fad gadgetry, Steel Trap is a slight horror effort. It’s professionally helmed and evocatively shot, but looking good is a far cry from actually being good. Instead, Luis Cámara deserves credit for the try, if not the win, and the slasher genre revival seems destined to sputter and die instead of building on some far more provocative European examples (Inside, for one). Macabre seems to be the one cinematic staple that can survive numerous subpar illustrations of its assets and still come out clean. Steel Trap isn’t about to chance that sentiment, but it won’t be bolstering said fear factors any time soon.


Bookmark and Share
Text:AAA
Saturday, Jul 12, 2008

The late ‘60s/early ‘70s was a boon for serious science fiction. Thanks in part to the success of 2001: A Space Odyssey and Planet of the Apes, allegorical speculation would rule the cinematic landscape until the movies visited a certain War plagued galaxy far, far away. These films used ideas and characters, not cutesy robots or genre-bending action sequences, as a way of getting their point across. Sometimes, they were preachy and unbearable. At other instances, they became the language for all cinema to come. In the case of 1974’s Phase IV, the consensus is clearly divided. On one side are the devotees who appreciate its ecological bent and entomological realism. On the other are critics who decry its smart bug set-up, snickering all the way to its less than crystal clear conclusion.


Of course, the man in charge was perhaps the wrong choice for such a project. Saul Bass was never known as a filmmaker. His title credit sequences for such major motion pictures as The Man with the Golden Arm, Anatomy of a Murder, and Vertigo set a standard that, even today, remains unmatched. But aside from a few short films, he had never made a feature before Phase IV. There have been controversial debates over his involvement in the work of Hitchcock (including claims he actually directed the shower sequence in Psycho), but nothing here indicates such a skill set. Instead, this future shock look at nature run amuck is a great deal like Robert Wise’s adaptation of Michael Crichton’s Andromeda Strain. Science overwhelms suspense, with occasional bouts of illogic and endless talking juxtaposed alongside brilliant miniature cinematography.



We learn that, as part of some cosmic anomaly (which may or may not be alien driven), Earth is under the influence of certain “phases”. These shifts cause the ant population in particular to rapidly evolve, developing language skills, a hive mentality, and an ability to design and execute geometrically complex structures. Scientists James Lesko and Dr. Ernest Hubbs are sent into the desert to study the creatures, to learn why they are acting so strangely, and hopefully develop a pesticide that will kill them. While farmers like Mr. Eldridge refuse to leave their land, others have taken off to friendlier environs. Of course, the ants won’t tolerate anyone getting in their way. Eventually, all that is left are Lesko, Hubbs, and the Eldridge girl, Kendra. It appears that the super intelligent insects have plans for them as well.


It’s easy to see why Phase IV captivated audiences 30 years ago. With its amazing bug footage, and psychobabble scripting, it’s The Hellstrom Chronicle (an obvious influence) taken into Twilight Zone territory. Thanks to the competent work of everyone behind and in front of the camera, and the ambiguous nature of the narrative, it’s the kind of free associative freak out that drove the counter culture crazy in the waning days of the post-peace protest age. Since Nigel Davenport and Michael Murphy have to do almost all the heavy lifting here, they become the most important component of the film’s success. Without them, all we’d have are ravishing views of insect interaction, various luminescent species of ant vying for the crown of best acid trip accoutrement.



Of the two, Murphy is more misplaced. He gets in the swing of things early and often, but frequently ventures out into “hey dude” territory - especially when Lynne Frederick’s nonentity Kendra shows up. He’s clearly intended to be the love interest, but there’s so much outdated computer chaos going on that there’s little time (or chemistry) for romance. Davenport is the major mad scientist, the man who finds himself taken in by the charge he’s been given and unable to control his fits of ego. When he starts raving toward the end, the result of a badly infected bite and too little sleep, he sounds positively potty. But for the most part, he’s the yin to Murphy’s yang, the faux scholarly cement that keeps the entire film from unraveling into nonsensical silliness.


Thanks to Bass’s belief in the mostly silent ant material, sequences where we as an audience have to piece together the reasons behind the bugs’ unusual behavior, Phase IV has an inherent mystery about it. There’s no real attempt at unraveling the nature of the various changes, just that after each one, the insects get more aggressive (and successful) in their attacks. The various sand mounds make a startling impression, including a collection of monoliths that look like statuary singers keening skyward. And this was all done in the days before CGI and complicated physical effects, the result of painstaking nature photography. It’s spellbinding to look at.



For many fans of the film, the only way to enjoy it was to find an out of print VHS version, wait for some obscure cable channel to rerun it late one night, or pray you could find a MST3K fan who owned a copy of the series’ initial days as a local Minnesota UHF broadcast (they tackled the movie with their typical in theater commentary satire). Now, thanks to Legend, the Paramount cast off has been picked up and polished off. While the lack of any supplemental features is disheartening, the nice DVD transfer, capturing the original theatrical aspect ratio, is a marvel to look at. While purists have balked at the lack of the entire print (supposedly, there’s a longer version of the movie out there with extended bits as part of the 2001-style ending), this is an excellent version of Phase IV.


While the concept of super intelligent insects usurping man and his place of power on the planet seems laughable, Saul Bass and the bravura camera work of Dick Bush make Phase IV a worthy addition to the second tier section of ‘60s/‘70s sci-fi. Sure, it has its flaws, and frequently finds itself bogged down in ancient technological minutia, but for every hackneyed hole-punch moment there’s an engaging scope enhanced by the film’s visual wonders.  Saul Bass may not have saved serious speculative fiction from its soon to be blockbuster ways, but his exploratory insect opera has a right to be considered among the category’s many major accomplishments.


Now on PopMatters
PM Picks
Announcements

© 1999-2014 PopMatters.com. All rights reserved.
PopMatters.com™ and PopMatters™ are trademarks
of PopMatters Media, Inc.

PopMatters is wholly independently owned and operated.